


Halved

by vacci_piano



Series: Omega Assassins [7]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Evie Frye, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mpreg, Omega Jacob Frye, Omega Verse, Other, Postpartum Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23767645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacci_piano/pseuds/vacci_piano
Summary: The Devil left something behind. A fair price for a stolen heart.
Relationships: Evie Frye & Jacob Frye, Evie Frye/Henry Green | Jayadeep Mir, Jacob Frye & Jack the Ripper, Jacob Frye/Maxwell Roth
Series: Omega Assassins [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704466
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Halved

They were scarcely seven when they saw their first play. Jacob remembers the glimmer of lights that made the stage look as if it was in motion, the cheering of the crowd, the characters yelling and singing. He had wanted to jump in. When asked later, Evie remembers it as being very terrible. Jacob said not a thing, because Evie’s opinions are right and his are wrong. Later, of course, he would become reckless and uncaring of what others think of him – such is the fate of someone who is deemed a disappointment before he is allowed to even try – but he remembers this night in particular for how he felt drawn to these actors, able to offer a world beyond what is accepted by the _right_ people. Jacob has never been right, so he kept the memory for himself.

It’s probably not surprising, then, that Jacob would rather spend his time moving about the Alhambra. In comparison, their train hideout – his and Evie’s – feels a lot like the siblings and their various guests are sprats in boxes of salt. Mind you, he likes the coziness well enough, but there are certain draws the Alhambra has that their small haven doesn’t.

“Jacob, my dear, it’s ever so good to see you.”

His name is Maxwell Roth. He’s older, worldly, and Jacob feels like he can be himself and not get judged for it. Jacob has never had anyone who accepted him so readily, who finds beauty in his faults, and so, at first, Jacob mistakenly looks up to him, something he’s done only once in his life before.

Despite being a schoolmaster, his father’s voice never rose in agitation, never suffered hoarseness from screaming. His words and whip were far better tools. Roth’s voice is gravelly from years of abuse; drinking, smoking, yelling. _Living_. Jacob decides he likes it. He especially likes it when Roth uses endearments to address him, rolling from Roth’s tongue like honey.

There’s a hidden place – one of many, but this one’s open today and boasts a colorful attendance – for seasoned fighters to batty-fang the bricky. No street leads there, but what there is, is a little passage, covered well by loose planks on a fence you might not even notice or pay attention to; it leads to a winding lane, and from there you will find what you are looking for. It is not a place you come by accident, and so whomever enters, may find themselves trapped if the people inside so decide. Jacob thinks Roth must have found his way there before, in search of amusement, and his suspicions are confirmed when the man’s presence is greeted by a few people there. Odd, that some of them should seem so scared; Roth’s reputation is more intimidating than the man himself, surely.

He is a little disappointed his surprise is no surprise, more determined than ever to impress his new friend.

Jacob fights like a champion. When he is finished and they are outside once more, Roth kisses him silly, agitated by the omega’s displays of prowess. Their dry lips slicken and grow hot. Jacob begins to think the man’s intentions are not mere frivolities of a man besotted, but to offer himself to Jacob as an alpha. Jacob pushes Roth away, confused, then pulls the man to him again, desperate for what he’s been allowed to taste. This was not the expected outcome for their outing, he thinks, but Jacob welcomes it with newly discovered hunger.

*

It isn’t as sudden as it might have been. Max is a romantic; he plays with Jacob as if he’s got the rest of his life to do this. He’ll hook his chin on Jacob’s shoulder, leave them both wanting, then disappear from Jacob’s person the next minute to ask the omega to join him for a bit of mayhem. It’s a game of tug they seem to be playing, fast and slow, this wanton tension; see who lets go of the rope first. The mad world outside their imagined haven is indifferent to them and Jacob learns to love the cool, damp air of the dawning day after a long night of mischief, knowing that the morrow will bring him ever closer, and for a while it’s perfect. For who can boast to have seen a London with only two people in it? What a sight!

But even Max must yield, when Jacob’s breathing changes and his wanting scent thickens. “Undress me now or watch me touch myself.”

It’s a tempting offer. To watch. At first Max gives a good stare – waist, chest, fingers, lips, _tongue_ –

“Not up to the challenge yourself?” Jacob prods, and just like that, Max has decided he’ll be the first to touch, before Jacob’s own hands have deprived him of a price most worthy.

They touch each other in turns, giving and taking, and from then on there is no end to their mingling. They’ll want for nothing else but each other.

*

This isn’t their first performance; it’s a different number with a hastily written change in the script. Jacob isn’t known for penning a good story – that talent belongs to Max – so how was he to suspect its ending, when he asked for the bite?

Jacob’s hand moves up to tangle itself in his trapper’s hair, as the alpha sinks inside.

“ _Yes_ ,” he chokes, feeling his lower half tightening in anticipation of the fire, releasing himself all over Max’s hand when Max bites him where he needs to be bitten. Jacob shudders, bucking wildly against _his_ alpha, the bond emerging, laying its roots. _You complete me_ , it says. His mate’s fist keeps squeezing and it’s shameful but Jacob doesn’t, _can’t_ stop moaning, riding out the last of his release with trashing hips.

“Beautiful, darling,” Max congratulates his performance. After Max has wrung the last drops from Jacob, his fingers find themselves rubbing the coarse hair, spreading what’s been spilled, messy hands traveling upwards until he finds something else that needs doing. Isn’t it a shame the skin there hasn’t been marked? His teeth are good for more than one bite. Jacob wants it, takes everything he’s given when Max continues to worship his omega until the early hours of the morn.

*

The sheets behind him feel cold. Jacob doesn’t want to open his eyes.

Max kisses behind his ear, voice raspy and clearer than it should be. “Wake up, love. Let’s watch the sunrise, together.” Jacob squints one of his eyes open. Through the open window, he can just about make out the first rays of light. When the light reaches him, he sits up, leaving his small cocoon fashioned from sheets he’d stolen, still smelling of his alpha. Thicker than that, is the scent of smoke. His lips are still tingling. The chill is getting to him, and he wishes Max would hurry up and embrace him like he always does.

But Max isn’t here.

*

The ultimate sin a person can commit, is to grievously harm or end one’s own bonded. It’s not meant to happen; it’s why the reaction to such an act is so lasting. He’s heard the stories – rumors really, as no-one would ever confess – but he can’t afford to be forgiving, to himself or Max, when the penalty for their fractured accord plays with the lives of others. When Jacob’s blade claims his alpha, he isn’t prepared for the pain that hits him.

It feels like his lungs are on fire. A bolt of lightning gathering in the distance before surging forward, licking his flesh raw, striking his bones and crumbling them to pieces. Max says his goodbye and gives a last kiss, happy to meet his end like this – _why not?_ – and the last thing Jacob can make out through the pain before passing out, is the phantom sensation of his alpha’s heart beating frantically inside Jacob’s own chest, before the pulse slows down and disappears altogether.

It’s Evie and Mr. Green who find his unconscious body and drag him to safety. Some fires, it seems, can be seen from a distance.

*

Part of what makes Henry Green so appealing – and this Evie can only admit to herself – is that he’s so dependable. She’s never had this kind of security with Jacob.

She and Mr. Green – _Henry_ – would make an excellent match; she feels guilty, then guilty for feeling angry. It makes her lash out at Jacob with words she knows he hates, trying to bring up memories of their father on purpose.

If she’d known who she was pushing him towards, she might have been more careful with her words. Jacob would have made a mess like usual even without Roth, leaving her to clean after him, but at least he would be _intact_. What kind of a sister is she, to not have known her omegan brother had bonded?

Maxwell Roth is a sickness on those whose lives he’s touched, spreading like wildfire even after his death has come to pass. Alhambra’s fire has been extinguished; Roth remains.

Evie is an alpha, but she’s a woman and capable of conceiving, even if her odds aren’t as great as those of an omega. She can empathize.

“This is the third time this week I have seen you like this,” she murmurs, wiping away Jacob’s hair from his sweaty skin, after another bout of sickness. She brings a soaked towel to his face and he’s too weakened to turn away. “Oh, Evie,” he moans, “expect to see me like this in months to come.” She brings him close and they cling to each other, both fighting back tears.

“You have decided then?”

She feels him burrow into her neck and pretends she can’t feel the moisture gathering there. What she really wants to ask is if he’s trying to please a dead man. _You don’t owe him anything_ , is what she wants to spit but never will.

*

“I think you mean to bond with Mr. Green,” Jacob teases, as he chews on candied ginger; a gift from Henry.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Of course she _wants_ him. But Henry is– he _wouldn’t_ – Henry is a respectable omega and has made no words of encouragement of that nature which would tell her he’s available. She wouldn’t want to offend him with her advances. Of late, Henry has been far more attentive to her brother, and wouldn’t that just be perfect, if Henry prefers omegas? If Henry prefers her insufferable omegan brother with a bun in the oven and no amount of good sense.

“Are you…? I can’t believe this is finally happening. You’re jealous.”

Evie slaps the pouch of candied ginger away from him. “Those were a gift from my chaste and refined suitor!” He calls after his sister, but Evie is uncaring for his plight as she leaves his presence with the airs of someone who’s ready to knee more than a few groins.

*

Oh, but Henry is _clever_.

No _white_ _gerberas_ for Jacob.

Evie and Henry get bonded. Just before, they hold a reception with all their friends present, like is proper; Evie is holding a bouquet of red tulips. George is invited and present, now that the Templars' hold on London no longer scares him, with Starrick gone and the remaining weakened by the Creed. He apologizes to Henry for leaving him without assistance; Evie assures him, that it was George’s words that inspired her and her brother to leave, even if the words were in contrast to their effect. Truly, he has nothing to be sorry for.

Emboldened by the atmosphere, Aleck tries to flirt with Jacob, and his efforts are so terrible Jacob nearly pees from laughter. Evie hasn’t seen Jacob this happy in months and encourages Aleck to double his efforts, leaving Jacob to beg for mercy. It’s possible this may have been the cause for why, only days later, Jacob gives birth to a beautiful baby girl.

Evie can’t believe she ever doubted her own welcome to the little’s one’s arrival. The baby isn’t Roth’s, never was.

*

There are the good days, and there are the bad days. It has been months since Jacob had a good day. His heart troubles him like a wound. Their baby girl is asleep, swaddled inside a crib, her tiny hands are balled into fists and brought up close to her chin, as small puffs of air leave her mouth in an even rhythm. Sometimes she gives a kick.

He lets Evie drag him away from his bed as she begins to wash him. It’s not fair. Evie should be starting a life together with her bonded, she shouldn’t have to look after his sorry state of being; Jacob can’t stand it. They used to hold each other accountable. Evie perhaps more than Jacob, but he had his moments, on occasion. Now all he does is sleep, and all she does is take care of Jacob _and_ the baby, never saying a bad word or an admonishment, like she’s afraid he’ll shatter.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Evie means to contradict him, but she’s seen how he’s coping.

Jacob isn’t coping.

“Promise me, Evie,” he begs her, “promise me you will take the child with you to India.”

She still needs to be weaned, but after that, the world is hers. It feels like he’s already said his goodbye. He isn’t present, like a parent ought to be. His father might not elicit many warm memories, but at least he was a father.

Evie shakes her head. “I love the child as if she were my own. What you are asking is too cruel. You will regret it, you and the child both.”

“Do you not think it a kindness to offer the child a life worth living?” But his sister isn’t hearing him, and he has to brace himself before he has the strength to tell her what truly ails him.

“Evie. _I still see Roth_.” It had been an idea, back when it began; now the alpha haunts his every waking moment. “Yesterday, he sang a lullaby to his daughter. I didn’t hear her scream herself blue because I _thought_ she was _asleep_.”

She is crushed by this admission, now that her brother has finally broken his silence on the matter. After, she does not argue back and for once, she can see the wisdom in his words. It is months later, that she says goodbye to her brother. The baby rests in Henry’s arms, and the omega stands as Evie’s bonded and faithful companion.

*

Max torments him every now and then, but the omega is healed enough to welcome his alpha without much fuss. This Max is caressing, like when before he grew angry with Jacob, his voice inviting, even when imbued with promised menace. Jacob knows not to answer back. Therein lies madness and Lambeth Asylum is no more. Not that it ever offered a cure; Jack is living proof for its poor effects on those incarcerated. The boy is ever better with time spent away.

The poor and the working have no mind for economy; most of them trade what little they have for a good bit of ale or something stronger, until they have naught left. Not so for Freddy; he intends to stay sharp and sober. And so, after witnessing Jacob return from a mission black-out drunk and mumbling nonsense, his lodgings make the most sense. It’s him who has been housing Jack, whose addled mind makes him unsuitable for living with strangers or others his age. Jacob, on his part, takes to giving him an education, along with the Creed, the very same his father taught him. He did pick up a thing or two, despite what his sister might think.

When not at Freddy’s, Jack keeps to the streets. He watches as those his age thump about, cheery from their games. He feels disconnected, even knowing some of them have suffered like him, or worse. But he has no patience for the kind of fantasy that would let him pretend he is whole again.

A group of them ask him to go prigging with him, and, eager to test what he has learned under Mr. Frye’s tutelage, he sets out to prove his worth.

Sunny days are the best days of all, for then the swells keep their purses fat as they stroll about the streets. But Jack wants a challenge, so he goes after a former Blighter, one the children recognize. His arm is nearly broken in two. It’s Mr. Frye who saves him.

“What was you thinking?” He scolds the boy. “Freddy will have your hide, if he ever finds out what you’ve been up to. To think he’s been housing a thief under his own roof! You haven’t the skill. Do you even know the contents of that purse are snide?”

Jack is in a darkened mood, so Jacob takes him with to go get some cream ice. There’s a cream ice shop that boasts to be the best in London, with cakes and marzipan on display also, but the wealthy ladies and gents inside are wont to turn their noses up at the pair, so they make for the park instead. The shop’s owner, with his skillful creations, might be in contempt of cream ice sold in the streets, but Jacob finds it fine as any.

Jacob takes to keeping Jack company, after that day. When Jack learns to climb the highest reaches, the tallest roofs, Jacob thinks it best not to worry Freddy if Jack keeps to his less than lawful endeavours and offers the lad a permanent home.

*

Times is hard, but Mr. Frye does his best. Now and then he’ll gaze at nothing, eyes wary, but then he catches a glimpse of Jack, and he grows content. Gets this look on his face, like he’s found something or _someone_ he ain’t seen in too long. It doesn’t make much sense to Jack, until…

Mr. Frye means to travel to India. Jack is to come with.

“We’re going to see my girl.”

Jack, who has come to see Mr. Frye as his, can’t understand how someone who lives at the other side of the ocean has more claim to Mr. Frye, compared to him who is _here_. He doesn’t understand what Mr. Frye is trying to explain to him, either; Jack had been in pieces, too, but he’s here, is he not?

Mr. Frye plays with Jack’s hair, all fondness, and gives a laugh, no humor in it. “I think you will find there’s nothing to be upset about. In truth, I expect she’ll want nothing to do with me.”

Good. It’s not fair she should get Mr. Frye, when she already has people looking after her, and he has no-one if he’s to lose Mr. Frye. His mind is filled with images of slicing, cutting, crushing –

Mr. Frye has stopped playing with his hair and begins to remove his hand, but Jacks grabs it by the wrist, fast like a viper, fingers digging in, leaning his head into the touch. There’s a pause, but then Mr. Frye relaxes his hand, unknowing of the monster he’s unleashed, and his petting starts again.

Jack thinks Mr. Frye sees flashes of the monster he’s raising but is choosing to ignore them. He doesn’t know what Mr. Frye is afraid of, since worse than a monster, there is The Devil.

They say Mr. Frye starred in a play with The Devil, once, and after the curtain, The Devil tried to buy his soul. Mr. Frye declined the offer, but The Devil stole his heart anyway, with promises to wait for his beloved in Hell.

Jack thinks he might travel to Hell to get it back, then slice it up and spear it.

*

translations:

batty-fang = to completely beat up someone or something, give someone a trashing

bricky = gutsy, brave

sprats in boxes of salt = sardines in a tin can (sprat is a small fish, and before refrigerators, you’d use salt on meat and fish for preserving)

prigging = stealing, thieving

swells = stylishly-dressed gentlemen

snide = fake

In the language of flowers, white gerbera (daisy) = innocence or purity, red tulip = declaration of love. (Floriography differed wildly according to each published guide, which there were many, but these seem consistent in their meaning.)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a reference to Jacob being separated from Roth, his child and Evie.
> 
> One day I’ll write a FryeRoth story with a happier ending.


End file.
